The Journal: Cracked Earth (9 page)

* * *

Carolyn finally got back to me. I put a
couple of logs in the stove and headed over to her house across
from the church. In her seventies with a crop of curly gray hair
and lively blue eyes, she’s fit and spry, and has a delightful
sense of humor, though there’s not much that’s been funny
lately.

“I did see you hiding in the back pew on
Sunday, Allexa,” she smirked. “Do I have a new convert? Or is
something else on your mind?”

“Definitely something else, Carolyn,” I said.
“I was listening to some of the concerns of the congregation,
mainly about our food supply. It’s a valid concern, and I have an
idea for feeding the masses, and I think you are the perfect
choice. Before you say anything, hear me out. I’d like to see a
soup kitchen started. The Catholic Church isn’t suitable, since
people have to go down that flight of stairs to get to the
kitchens. Your church has that short ramp, making it much more
accessible, and your area is bigger.”

“Go on”, she said, looking interested.

“Do you know the story of
Stone
Soup
?”

“You mean the one where a stranger comes into
the poor town looking for food and no one has any? He claims that
he has a magical stone that will make soup; all he needs is a large
pot of water over a fire. After putting the stone from his pocket
into the pot, he says ‘it will be good, but it will be better if
there were a couple of carrots to put in,’ and someone brought out
some carrots. And so on with potatoes and onions until there was a
pot of real vegetable soup and everyone was fed,” she said.

“Yes! That’s the story. What if you had a
soup kitchen where people could bring a can of something to donate
to the pot and then have a meal in the warmth of the church
basement? We could call it The Stone Soup Kitchen.” I let it sink
in for a moment.

“Hunting season started today,” Carolyn said
thoughtfully. “I’m sure a couple of the guys would be willing to
donate some venison to add protein to the pot. And I love the name:
The Stone Soup Kitchen,” she said, letting the name roll around in
her mouth. “Yes, that would be the perfect name. I like it a lot.
Why are you doing this?”

“First of all, Carolyn, I care about this
town and the people here. Second, as the emergency manager for the
township, I know people are easier to take care of if they’re not
hungry. I am
not
going to confiscate anyone’s food. If
someone was smart enough to stock up for the winter, then good for
them, it’s their food. If we make it easy for people to voluntarily
share or donate, I think we will have a much better response. You
could even ask for plate donations to be a can of something, since
money is useless right now. What do you think?”

“I think God was wise in putting you in our
community,” she said and gave me a warm hug.

“And all this time I thought it was my ex,” I
said under my breath. She ignored me.

We went over some details about what would be
needed— cooks, someone to set up chairs and clean up, all
volunteers from the congregation, and we discussed the different
possibilities for meals. I suspect soup might get boring after a
while, nevertheless, at least it would be food. I plan on
announcing this at the town meeting tomorrow and she will make it
part of her sermon on Sunday. It’s hard to estimate how many people
are left in town, and I think after the meeting we might have a
better idea. I know many are leaving to stay with relatives in
other towns, since our town is so isolated. A soup kitchen feeding
a hundred people might work, but for how long?

I made another last minute decision, which
seems to be frequent for me lately, like people only nodding at me.
“You could start it on Thanksgiving. There’s an extra turkey in my
freezer that you can have.” I thought she was going to start
crying, so it seemed like a good time to make my exit. I was back
at home before noon.

Has it really been only nine days since the
first earthquake? It feels like so much longer.

Same chores needed to be done: chickens were
let out, fed and watered; wood was brought in to replace what was
burned yesterday, floors swept and dishes washed. I took some fish
out of the freezer for dinner and will fix some rice to go with it.
I also took out a pound of hamburger for tomorrow.

I went across the road to talk to Don about
coming over to add wood to the stove when I have to be gone and
told him about the town meeting. Nancy, his wife, was adamant about
not getting involved. Their two freezers are stocked full, and they
won’t need anything or anyone for a long time, at least not until
they run out of gas for their generator. I tried to talk to them
about their dependency on power, but since they’re older, they feel
they know better than me, and they are sure that the power will be
back up soon. I hope they’re right yet I fear they’re not.

It was another cold day and a colder night.
Power came back on around 9P.M., and was off again forty-five
minutes later. At least I was able to save generator gas, fill a
couple of buckets with water and recharge the cell phone. I wonder
how much of a charge that short time on the grid will give to the
cell tower batteries.

* * *

The town meeting was really short. Only a
dozen people showed up and they immediately complained that we
weren’t doing enough, which soon turned into complaints that we
weren’t doing anything. They were upset over the gas situation.
They were mad that Fram’s couldn’t get any more food or beer, and
they were just plain angry about everything. They refused to shut
up and it got very frustrating. It ended in a shouting match from
the audience, so the board members packed up their notes and went
back to their offices, closing the doors behind them. I went home
very discouraged. I hope Carolyn has better luck on Sunday.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: November 16

The weather is surprisingly beautiful: blue
skies and sunny, temperature got up to fifty-eight degrees, so I
walked for an hour, trying to burn off my frustration.

I need to do something more. I’m tired of
simple dinners and I wanted to
make
something! The nice
thing about pasties is they don’t take much to make and they’re
simple. I made a large batch of pastry dough and set it aside to
rest, the peeled and diced one large potato, two small carrots and
a couple of onions, all still raw from the garden. I browned the
hamburger that I thawed yesterday and mixed everything together. I
divided up the dough into eighteen balls and rolled them out. The
veggie mix went in the center and then I rolled and pinched the
sides. No, they weren’t pretty but they held.

Eighteen golden brown pasties were lined up
on cooling racks on my work island. I set four of them aside for me
and then wrapped the rest up in a towel, rack and all, and set it
in a cardboard tote. I added a case of ramen noodles for Jacob, one
of the roasts from the outside freezer, a bottle of wine, and a box
of .308 shells and then drove over to Jason’s. He and Amanda were
delighted with my surprise visit. I could tell they were trying
hard to ration what they had, so the extra food was well received.
We had a nice, short visit. The sun was getting low, and even
though it was only 4:40 P.M. I needed to get back before dark.

* * *

It’s another cold morning, only thirty
degrees with a heavy frost on the windshield, not that I’m going
anywhere. I think I should make it a habit of parking in the barn
now.

I’m still feeling mixed emotions about
yesterdays failed meeting. I had such high hopes. Maybe that’s the
problem. I expected too much. I know this town of Moose Creek. We
have so many independent souls, yet the remaining ones all have
their hands out and get angry when they aren’t given everything
that they feel they should have. I think those are the ones who
showed up to the meeting. They are so used to getting a response
from stomping their feet and throwing temper tantrums. It’s not
going to work this time though, and they will learn that soon
enough.

I hope Carolyn has better luck. Her
congregation is used to being polite and listening, something that
didn’t happen at the meeting. She’ll get the Stone Soup Kitchen
running, and that’s the important thing. I talked to her this
morning and told her what happened last night. I think she’s going
to be doing some scolding tomorrow. Maybe I’ll show up to watch.
Meanwhile, I’m taking the day to recoup from the stress. I don’t
like all of this responsibility and I like it even less when nobody
listens!

* * *

I just came back from a long cathartic walk
in the woods. It reminded me of all the walks I took at my previous
house in the woods. Oh, how I miss that place. That life taught me
so much about myself and about prepping. Ever since I was a
too-young bride of nineteen and got caught in the mob of the
grocery store a few hours before a snowstorm in Detroit, I knew
that I had to keep more than one or two days of food in the house.
Little-by-little, I learned. With the arrival of the boys, I
learned even more, since they depended on me. It really wasn’t
until I moved to the woods, however, that I understood having
adequate supplies can be a life or death thing. Right from the
start, my ex-husband Sam and I decided to winter in. The snow was
too deep to drive through and the house was over a mile from the
plowed road. I found out that pulling a heavy sled on snowshoes is
tough work!

The second winter was different. I stocked up
heavy
before
the snow flew when I was still able to drive
the supplies in. With the winter lasting almost five months, I had
to store at least that much in food and supplies, everything from
tomatoes to toothpaste, flour to TP. Every year it was a little
easier, since I had the previous year’s inventories to reference
for how much I needed of what. I made it my mission to have
whatever I
might
need for whatever I
might
want to
cook. I selected menus sometimes that would keep me entertained
during those long cold months. When Y2K was approaching, I doubled
what I stocked, just in case. That “just in case” cost us our
relationship. Sam was furious that I believed Y2K could happen, and
I was just as angry that he didn’t.

I know that my approach has changed
drastically from that time, and much of my supplies are now long
term: buckets of wheat berries waiting to be ground into flour
instead of flour, berries that will last years instead of months;
sugar and salt that will never go bad since they are preservatives
and need no preserving, along with rice and pasta that, if kept
dry, will last indefinitely. It isn’t just food anymore. Now it’s
nails, screws and fencing. It’s tools and water filters and a
bicycle I don’t ride yet might need to. It’s also school supplies
and larger-sized clothes for Jacob. It’s twenty years of lamp wicks
because they were on clearance for only fifty cents. This approach
evolved on its own when I became more aware of the world and the
mess I saw it in. Look at us now; the country is quite literally
ripped in half. The East Coast is drowning in seawater and sludge,
and the supply lines are almost shut down from the earthquakes in
the Midwest and West. Some things don’t change though… there are
still nitwits who refuse to listen.

Last night it was really windy but it only dropped
to forty-eight degrees. I was able to sleep with the window open
again. There won’t be too many of those nights left this year. With
the sun shining and blue skies, people are bound to be in a good
mood. I hope.

I was curious how Carolyn was going to handle
the sermon today, so I took my place in the back pew to listen.
She’s an excellent speaker, and she’s had lots of practice. She
began with the tale of the seven years of plenty and the seven
years of famine, and morphed into the five maidens who ran out of
lamp oil when their five sisters were prepared and had enough to
see them through the night. She then launched right into
preparedness in modern times, and how we’ve had more than seven
years of plenty, and shame on us for not setting aside enough to
see us through the darkness of the days to come. If we all came
together we just might make it, she insisted.

She leaned on the podium and said, “Let me
tell you a little story.” When she relayed the story of
Stone
Soup,
and explained how the congregation was going to start The
Stone Soup Kitchen, the audience nodded in agreement and whispered
among themselves.

I stayed until the end so I could talk with
her, and because everyone was excited, I couldn’t get her
alone.

I saw her shake her finger at Lenny and say,
“If you would have given the board the courtesy of your ear instead
of your mouth on Friday, you would have known about this
already!”

I smiled. He was totally chastised and
positively contrite!

I tried to sneak out, but Carolyn saw me and
asked me to wait. She excused herself from her flock and pulled me
aside.

“I have to thank you. This is exactly what
the town needs to pull it together again,” she said with a wide
grin and her eyes glowed with an inner happiness.

I told her that I would be by on Tuesday with
the turkey that I promised, and I wanted to leave it with
her
. I didn’t want anyone to know that it was me providing
the bird. Carolyn thought that I was merely being humble. I let her
think that, but truthfully, I simply don’t want anyone knowing that
I have food.

“If you bring it by around nine in the
morning, only I will be there,” she told me. I think she wants to
talk more.